Part 18

Mission Abort + 32hrs

22:00 - Malhördhem Local Time

TARJA KARSAAR, SENIOR MEDICAL SPECIALIST for the Malhördhem Medical Centre, sank into the chair in her office, rubbing a hand across her face in a vain attempt to wipe the fatigue from her eyes. It had taken almost five hours, but indications were encouraging. She had managed to save most of what was left of Hobbie Klivian's arm.

"You should rest, Specialist," a soft voice commented.

Tarja looked up, quirking an eyebrow at the figure lounging in the doorway. Toryn Farr moved towards her and sat down opposite her, across the desk. "You asked for a second opinion," Toryn told her, softly. "We sent you one, but you were already in surgery."

"Things moved faster than I expected," Tarja apologised.

Toryn nodded, putting a satchel on the desk. "We appreciated that… but we didn't want to leave equipment lying around. When we got the heads-up that you were winding down in surgery, I wandered back over with it."

Tarja looked at the satchel, surmising that it held the holoprojectors. Then she looked up at Toryn. Things had changed in the few hours since her discussion with Shawn Valdez, Per and the others at Lady Valda's. She hadn't dared risk an unsecured comlink to let the Rebels know, however. Now she found herself wondering where to start.

Finally, she took a deep breath and began, "The situation has evolved…"

Toryn's stomach lurched. "Hobbie?"

Tarja smiled, shaking her head, "He's in recovery and holding his own," she told Toryn. "There was some damage to his heart, but we've repaired that. And I was able to save more than I expected of his arm. No… This concerns… my other patient…" She pushed herself to her feet, moving around the desk to perch on the edge of it, close to the Rebel officer and still facing the door. "You are aware that I've been reassigned?" she asked, quietly.

"We are," Farr confirmed.

"I've been tasked to get Skywalker back to Rebel lines."

Stunned, Toryn Farr blinked then opened her mouth, closing it again without saying a word, her mind reeling. Vader had hunted Skywalker across half the galaxy, and now that he had him, he was letting him go? It made no sense…

"I pushed for Klivian to be released into my custody, too," Tarja went on. "Lord Vader agreed."

Toryn looked at her. That made no sense, either, although it did go a long way to explaining the visit they'd had from Vyre. But why would Vader let them go: aid their escape?

And then she remembered that this would not be the first time Vader had manipulated the escape of Rebel personnel. The Millennium Falcon had been allowed to escape the Death Star so that it could be followed to Yavin. And, as with Yavin, forewarned was forearmed. They could factor it in to their response, tailor the mission around it.

"What, exactly, did Vader tell you?" she asked.

Tarja considered her answer carefully. She may not agree with the Tarkin Doctrine, she might not agree that the ends always justified the means, but she was still an Imperial officer. She was willing to aid the Rebels in rescuing their pilots, but her loyalty lay with the Empire.

Valdez had warned her of the risks of being a double agent. It was a risk she was willing to take, but only so far. She had a duty to protect fellow Imperial officers. And, no matter what her personal opinion was of Vyre, he was an Imperial officer. Bringing him into the equation, telling Farr the whole truth, would potentially compromise his mission.

She knew she was walking a fine line, knew that she was playing a dangerous game, but it was a game she had chosen to involve herself in the moment she had handed the Rebels over to Vyre.

"He believes I have already gained the trust of the Rebels because I treated the injured," she began. "He told me that I had new orders: that I was to accompany Skywalker back to Rebel lines. He said that the Rebels knew that their people were here, and were almost certainly planning a rescue attempt and that Skywalker would know how to contact the Rebel Alliance."

Toryn took that in. Different possibilities were beginning to open up, all of them viable: such as the possibility that Vyre really was working for Vader after all. That made complete sense now. An apparently discredited Imperial officer made a perfect lure for the Alliance to bite, especially if he was bringing in Alliance personnel.

And suddenly it all began to fall into place. Skywalker, comatose, was useless to the Empire. As a means of infiltrating the Alliance, however, he was an ideal conveyance. Vyre, as an ISB officer, was uniquely placed to feed the Alliance just enough information to make them trust him without giving them anything important. And once his defection was believed, he could wreck the Alliance from the inside.

Or he could try. Toryn had an uneasy feeling that Vyre's body was destined to be found behind a wall of crates in a dark corner of an Alliance hangar.

Pulling her thoughts back to the holoprojectors in front of her, she nodded at Tarja, telling her, "Well, we shouldn't disappoint... so, let's get that false wall set up."

Tarja nodded, pushing herself to her feet. "Follow me."

oo0oo

Wes Janson paused at the door of the briefing room. Then he took a deep breath, stepping inside, calling, "General on the deck!"

All conversation ceased. Pilots shot to their feet, standing to attention. Janson moved aside and General Carlist Rieekan walked past him, moving towards the briefing podium. Major Palo Torshan followed the General, stopping a few steps to Rieekan's left.

Rieekan looked out around the ranks of faces in front of him, then nodded to Janson before ordering, "At ease."

Janson relaxed his stance then walked across the floor to sit at the front of the room, beside Zev Senesca. Rieekan waited until all the pilots had settled then began. "By now you will all have seen the media streams about an Alliance ship going down on Vaaljajord. I regret to confirm that those reports are correct… and there have been casualties."

The atmosphere in the room thickened. Zev glanced at Janson, but the other pilot looked resolutely ahead.

"Seven Rebel personnel were killed in the crash," Rieekan continued. "I regret to inform you that Tarn Mison is among the dead."

Janson swallowed, hard. The General had broken the news to him before the briefing, but it hadn't softened the blow of hearing it a second time. Tarn had been with the squadron since just after Yavin and helped train most of the pilots here. Janson had got drunk with him and Wedge when they survived the attack on the Seinar shipyards but Hobbie and Luke had been posted missing. Tarn had been an escort for one of the first transports to escape Hoth… where Zev had been taken by the Imperials and mindwiped. Which had launched the Dendraali mission.

Janson swallowed again, bringing his attention back to Rieekan. The General had paused after delivering the news, but now he was continuing, "Reports that Rebel personnel have been taken into Imperial custody are, unfortunately, also true. Wedge Antilles has been removed from direct Imperial control, but Luke Skywalker and Derek Klivian are both seriously injured and under Imperial guard in a medical facility. However, in a little over fifteen hours we will have a window of opportunity."

Rieekan felt the atmosphere in the room turn from despondency to cautious anticipation. Pride in his pilots' professionalism swelled as he watched them shrug off their concern and grief, visibly transforming back into a fighting unit. "Major Torshan has the details," he told them, stepping aside.

Palo Torshan nodded to Rieekan then moved to the podium, looking out at the pilots. He and Rieekan had carefully planned this briefing in order to protect both the Rebel personnel already on the ground, and the local resistance cell. The gathered pilots were about to be briefed on a diversion and extraction mission. The only pilot who would know the true facts of the assignment, would be the operation's commander: Wes Janson.

"Both Skywalker and Klivian are receiving specialist treatment in the medical facility," Torshan began. "That treatment will be complete in fifteen hours. At that time, contacts within the medical facility will be in a position to extract both of them." Torshan paused, then continued, "The situation is complicated, both by the presence of Imperial personnel within the facility… and the Executor in orbit around Vaaljajord."

A soft murmur washed through the assembled pilots, again. Someone whistled softly. Before any of them could interrupt with questions, Torshan went on, "For the plan to work, we must sever the Imperial ability to communicate, both on the ground and with the Executor. That will involve the deployment of a magflux charge..."

Torshan keyed a switch on the podium and a three-dimensional holochart appeared between him and the pilots. It showed a planet, Vaaljajord, rotating slowly in space. "The Home One will take you to a position a short jump-distance from Vaaljajord. From there, you will take the final jump, dropping out of hyperspace at two points."

The points appeared on the holochart, along with a Star Destroyer highlighted in red. One jump point was on the far side of Vaaljajord, directly opposite the Star Destroyer and screened by the planet. The other was also on the far side of the planet but higher on the chart, just within line-of-sight of the Destroyer.

"The Executor is in synchronised orbit above Malhördhem, the town where Skywalker and Klivian are being held. The main X-wing group will drop out of hyperspace here," Torshan told them, indicating the higher jump point. "Your objective is to intercept whatever the Executor throws at you, keep them busy, and prevent them from seeing the retrieval unit, who will drop in at this point," he went on, indicating the lower location, "and descend towards Malhördhem."

Torshan looked back at the pilots. "The retrieval unit will two comprise two B-wings, a shuttle and four T-65s as escort. It is imperative that the main, X-wing engagement prevents the Executor's TIEs from following the retrieval unit down into the Vaaljajord atmosphere."

The holochart zoomed in closer to the planet. "The B-wings will begin their bombing run immediately, while the shuttle and T-65 escort hold back. The shuttle will only begin its descent towards Malhördhem in the moments before the detonation of the magflux charge. The X-wing escort will follow the shuttle down, engaging the Imperial ground-forces, giving covering fire to the shuttle."

The holochart zoomed in, again, towards the town of Malhördhem. "The shuttle will land, here, outside the medical centre and remain on the ground for as long as possible, before getting the hell out."

Torshan turned, looking at Wes Janson, "Lieutenant-Commander Janson?"

Wes stood up, "Sir?"

"You are in command of the mission. You will also be flying the shuttle," Torshan told him, then warned, "If the magflux charge fails to fully disable both the Imperial communications and sensors, you could face heavy resistance. The final decision on landing the shuttle will be yours. If you deem it too risky, there is a fall-back plan in place."

Janson took a deep breath, but nodded, confirming, "Understood, Sir."

Shuttles had limited defensive capabilities. If they got into trouble, it was unlikely he'd be able to shoot his way out of it. Forewarned, however, was forearmed and with Luke and Wedge gone, there was only one other pilot he trusted to watch his back.

Well, maybe more than one…

"May I make recommendation for the X-wing escort?"

Torshan nodded. "Recommendations accepted, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Senesca," Janson told him without hesitation.

Sitting beside Janson, Zev clenched his jaw against a surge of emotion as Janson continued, "Geringho, Poole and Strome."

"Wes," Senesca muttered softly, looking up at him, "Are you sure?"

He'd not long been passed fit for flight. Only a few weeks before he had flown against the pilots who now surrounded him, secure in the transplanted belief that the Rebel Alliance would bring chaos and civil war to the galaxy, and that the only way to prevent it was to destroy them.

Janson thumped him on the shoulder, telling him, "Shut up. I'm sure!" Then he turned his attention back to Torshan. "I recommend Nor Freugh for command of the main X-wing unit."

"Done!" Torshan told him. "Confer with Lieutenant Freugh and your X-wing escort, then present your recommendations to General Rieekan and myself within the hour. The mission parameters have been transferred to your datapads."

oo0oo

Major Bren Derlin drifted awake to a nagging ache in his shoulder and the rumble of thunder. He tried to ignore it, listening instead to the soft conversation coming from his left: finally realising that it was a media broadcast.

"… can see behind me, the main route into Malhördhem is being regulated by stormtroopers from the Ranveig garrison, here on Vaaljajord. Very few people are being allowed to enter and no-one is being allowed to leave. We also know that the restricted area is being patrolled by stormtroopers from the Ranveig garrison. However, unconfirmed reports are suggesting that Malhördhem, itself, is under the direct authority of one of the Emperor's most trusted officers, the Lord Darth Vader, and that the elite 501st unit is assisting the Malhördhem Sheriff Bureau. With the Star Destroyer Executor still in orbit directly above Malhördhem, that's a very plausible situation. The Executor, of course, arrived this morning."

"And do we have any further information on the crash, itself? Do we know how many, if any, of the Rebel terrorists survived?"

"Again, Freda, there is very little information available… but this area has been associated with an underground route to the Rebel Alliance, so the lack of information is not entirely unexpected. Rumours of a Rebel contact within Malhördhem have, apparently, persisted for the last few years. When we asked about it, both the Sheriff Bureau and Imperial authorities categorically denied the route's existence. The Sheriff Bureau did confirm that a small number of malcontents, duped by the rumours, occasionally arrive in Malhördhem looking for the Rebel Alliance, but those individuals are detained and handed over to Imperial authorities. That information has been corroborated by the Imperial Governor's office."

"Not being given any information must be driving those journalists nuts…" Derlin chuckled softly, opening his eyes.

Zånder Olgenssen looked up from the holovid image, grinning across the dimly-lit room at him. "And, this time, they don't dare speculate," the Deputy agreed, getting to his feet and moving over to the Major. "How you feeling?"

"Shoulder's protesting," Derlin confirmed as Olgenssen helped him sit up, "but not bad… How long have I been out?"

"About eight hours," the Deputy supplied, checking the readouts on the dialysis unit attached to Derlin's arm. "Your blood oxygen level's good," he told him. "You ain't been coughing, neither. You hungry?"

Derlin's stomach growled in response. Olgenssen heard it, just as another rumble of thunder began. He grinned. "We got rations and kaffin. Got some water, too…"

"Water," Derlin told him. "What's the situation?" he went on as the Deputy rummaged in the pack the Princess Leia had provided.

"It's twenty-two-thirty hours local time," Olgenssen supplied, handing over a ration pack and a flask of water. "Vader's here. He over-ruled Vyre and re-instated the Sheriff; accepted your folks as bounty hunters and enlisted their aid to find you. Place is crawling with stormtroopers. Skywalker's awake. Tarja's trying to save Klivian's arm. Antilles is aboard your people's ship. Your other folks are still in the bordella…" He paused for a moment, considering, then finished, "Reckon that's about it."

Derlin had paused, water flask half way to his mouth. He blinked at Olgenssen then laughed softly, shaking his head. "I wish all my sit-reps were so succinct…"

The Deputy grinned at him, pulling another ration bar from the pack. "That's the Sheriff's training," he supplied, ripping the pack open. "She ain't interested in pleasantries when it comes to such stuff. She wants it straight down the line, no messing around."

Derlin swallowed a mouthful of water, quirking an eyebrow. "Sounds like my sort of a woman."

Olgenssen's grin widened. "Well… I could put in a word…"

Derlin chuckled, shaking his head. "We need to get out of this alive, first." Then he asked, "Any word from up the line?"

"Alliance Command?" Olgenssen asked. Mouth full of food, Derlin simply nodded. Olgenssen shook his head, "No… but there ain't much of anything being said."

Derlin swallowed the rations, "Makes sense, keeping the frequency quiet."

Almost on cue, the comlink chirped. Olgenssen answered it.

"Open the door," a voice ordered.

Olgenssen pushed himself to his feet, moving across to unlock the door. A wave of raucous laughter and drunken singing swept in as a figure slipped inside. The door slid closed, cutting off the noise.

Cara Dune pushed the hood back off her hair, grinning at Olgenssen. "Good evening, Deputy."

Zånder grinned back at her, "Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes…"

"If you could both stop the sweet-talking for a moment," Derlin interrupted, good-naturedly, pushing himself to his feet.

"Yes, Sir," Dune acknowledged. "Of course, Sir…" All frivolity disappeared as she slid a backpack off her shoulders. "I'm here to get you both out."

"What's the plan?" Zånder asked, glancing across at Derlin as he walked toward them.

Dune opened the pack, pulling out a cloak and handing it to Zånder. "There's a party aboard the Freedom Shade and you're both invited."

She handed a second cloak to Derlin. "The Princess Leia's compliments, Major, and her apologies for not keeping you updated. That will be remedied once you're aboard the Shade. Our friends from the bordella are outside with Major Valdez. They're escorting us to the ship."

Derlin simply nodded, knowing that there had to be more to the plan; knowing that he would be briefed on it when he got to the ship. Pulling the cloak around his shoulders, he turned, heading back over to where the pack lay on the floor, clearing the empty packaging into it. Zånder followed, scooping up the holovid projector and tucking it into a pocket, lifting the discarded wrappers beside it.

"Ready?" Derlin asked him as he straightened.

"Ready," the Deputy confirmed.

Turning, they moved back towards Cara Dune. "Intel has a squad of 501st at the entry gate," she warned them. "Valdez and Lady Valda will do all the talking."

"Copied," Derlin confirmed as Zånder acknowledged, "Understood."

They stepped out of the opening door, into the raucous group of people outside. Shawn Valdez had just reached a particularly ribald part of a filthy song he was singing at the top of his voice. He nodded to them, slipped his arm around the cloaked figure at his side then moving towards the gate, still singing.

"May I have the pleasure?" a female voice asked Derlin. He turned, looking at the hooded figure who held out her arm to him, recognising her voice but unable to remember her name.

"The pleasure is all mine," he told her. As he reached out to link his own with hers, the cloak slid back revealing the dialysis unit.

"Let's keep that hidden," she told him, moving to his other side. Taking the pack, she slipped her arm through his. "Are you in pain?" she asked after a moment as they followed after Valdez.

"I've been in worse shape," he assured her, wryly. "My team have taken more punishment than me on this assignment."

"And you feel their pain keenly…"

Derlin took a breath, to tell her that he was too focussed on getting them all out alive to feel their pain. Then said nothing as the group turned into the gate entrance and found their way blocked by a unit of stormtroopers, blasters levelled at them.

"Hello, there!" Valdez called out to them. "We're having a party!"

He let Valda go, walking forward to stop in front of the trooper Commander. "One of these girls was a favourite of Olgenssen, the Deputy who freed Major Derlin," he told the Commander softly. "We need to isolate her… let the Boss work on her." He took a step back, finishing more loudly, "And we have a stash of Corellian Blue on the ship. Come and join us!"

Large, slow drops of rain began to fall. The stormtrooper Commander motioned to his troops, who lowered their blasters. "We're on duty," he told Valdez, curtly. "Enjoy your party."

Valdez grinned at him, waving the crowd past the white-armoured troops, who moved aside. "Oh, we will!" he grinned at the Commander, voice almost drowned out by a rumble of thunder. "We will…"

Then he turned, walking after the group, starting another verse of the song.

The Commander watched them go. The thunder rolled again, and the heavens opened in a downpour. There were squeals from the group as they took off at a run for the ship, cloaks flapping behind them. The Commander took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, wiping the rain off his visor. Then he looked at his squad, shaking his head. "It's going to be a long night…"

oo0oo

Luke slammed awake in semi-darkness to the sound of an explosion. Panic flaring, he lay, looking up at the inside of the hyper-atmospheric chamber, trying to listen over the sound of his heart as it hammered in his chest. The explosion rumbled on. A bright flash lit up the semi-darkness. Luke held his breath… then let it go in a soft sigh of relief as the deafening crescendo of thunder rolled out behind the lightning.

It was a storm: nothing more. The lightening flashed, again.

There had never been enough water on Tatooine to fuel a storm like this, but there had been sand storms. They had boiled up out of nowhere, scouring across the country in a wall of choking, blinding ferocity that could last for minutes, or hours. He and Biggs had once sheltered in caves near Beggar's Canyon for a whole day while one raged outside.

He had always been able to sense the storms coming, though. Now, he could sense nothing.

It was disconcerting: being cut off from the Force. He'd not had the years of training that the Jedi had received before the Emperor's genocide had wiped them out, but the Force was part of him. It had been with him all his life.

For eight hundred years I have trained Jedi…

Thoughts of the little Jedi master brought with it memories of what Yoda had told him of the Jedi order. In the days of the Old Republic, he would have been a Jedi Master by now. He would have been walking the halls of the Jedi temple as Yoda had; studying in the hush of the temple library. He would have been a guardian of peace and justice.

He would also have been taken from his family to be raised by the Jedi. He would never have met Biggs. He'd not have been nicknamed Wormie. He'd not have had a life on Tatooine. The thought of never knowing Beru and Owen cut deeply, hardening in his throat.

He understood, now, why Owen had found excuses to keep him on Tatooine and stop him going to the Academy. He understood, now, why his relationship with his gruff, slow-to-laugh, but loving Uncle had changed the moment he had first announced his intention to join the Academy.

Owen had become distant, taciturn, more domineering… because he had been afraid for him.

Owen had spent almost two decades protecting him: shielding him from Vader, and from the knowledge of who his father had become. It was why Owen had run Ben Kenobi off the farm. It was why Owen had shaken his head, time and time again, and dismissed any discussion of the Empire, or of the Rebellion, with a simple, "The Empire's a long way from here. It won't affect the harvest. Or the moisture vaporators…"

How much had Beru and Owen given up to protect him? Had they left everything they had known on Coruscant to smuggle him out of Vader's reach as the Jedi Temple burned? Had they abandoned their dream of a less-harsh life in order to keep him safe? Or had they always lived on Tatooine?

Had they watched the newscasts of the Imperial ferocity and looked at the child playing on the floor, wondering what they had accepted into their lives?

Luke sighed, softly, swallowing down the sadness and grief. If they had ever doubted what he might become, they had never shown it. They had given him love and kindness and independence… only thwarting that freedom when he began to talk about the Academy.

If only they had told him the truth, they might have…

Luke took a deep breath, swallowing down another wash of grief, knowing that it was an empty probability. Even if he had left the farm and gone to Ben, trained as a Jedi, Leia would still have sent Artoo to look for the older Jedi. The droids would still have ended up on the farm. The Empire would still have traced them. And Owen and Beru would still have died.

As would Leia. She would have been executed. And the Death Star would have manoeuvred to destroy planet after planet until fear of its destructive capability stopped all dissent against the Empire and shattered the Rebel Alliance. And the first Ben or he would have known about it, was the disturbance in the Force as Alderaan died… and by then it would have been too late…

oo0oo

Vader stopped at the door of the medical room, staring at the hyper-atmospheric chamber, unsure of what he had sensed, wondering if he had imagined it. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind of emotion, reaching out through the Force. And there it was: barely perceptible, but there. The proximity to his son was all that allowed him to sense the tenuous shadow of grief and anger… but it was there.

Vader moved forward, towards the chamber. There was a brief allusion of fear… and then the presence of his son within the Force vanished completely.

Reaching the chamber, Vader looked at the still form inside. This time, the blue eyes did not open. This time Luke simply ignored his presence. Beneath the obsidian mask, Vader smiled at his son's temerity. "Good!" he told Luke, softly. "You control your fear."

The boy did not react. He lay still, his breathing measured and calm.

"Your condition improves," Vader told him. "You cannot hide it. The Force returns to you. I sense your presence within it. And once you are recovered, once you have been released from this chamber, we will discuss your future… at my side…"

oo0oo

Secure within the confines of the Freedom Shade, Bren Derlin stood at the door of the cabin where Wedge Antilles lay asleep on a berth. There was no sign of the trauma he'd endured at the hands of Colonel Marek Vyre, but a bacta compress had been placed over his nose and jaw. A dialysis unit was attached to his arm, too.

"How is he?" Derlin asked softly, remembering the defiance in Wedge's eyes as he had tried to spit at Vyre.

"Wedge is going to be fine," Leia assured him. "Specialist Karsaar is very good at what she does. His lungs are clear, the burns are healed, the bone density is almost normal, and the dialysis unit is keeping the spore infestation at bay until we can get you all back to Rebel lines." She paused, then went on, "I'm more concerned about you than Wedge, right now."

Derlin took a deep breath and then turned to look at her. "I slept off the stims," he assured her.

Leia quirked an eyebrow. "I'm referring to the shoulder injury…"

He met her gaze but said nothing. She gave him a wry smile then went on, "Specialist Karsaar gave us comprehensive records of all medic treatment. Your name wasn't on the list… and yet Deputy Olgenssen tells me that it's bothering you…"

She held his gaze, daring him to deny it. Finally he sighed, his spine slumping slightly.

Leia relented, but only a little. Derlin was a career soldier, he was trained to deal with the rigours and stress of combat and espionage, but a lot had happened in the last thirty-two hours: more than anyone had any right to endure. She could order him to stand down, but she knew that he wouldn't. He would be unable to let go until Luke and Hobbie were no longer in Imperial hands.

She needed him rested and thinking clearly, however. Of everyone here, he had the most insight into how best to utilise the Malhördhem resistance cell. He could also give them a profile on Colonel Marek Vyre.

"Every instinct is yelling at me to relieve you of duty on medical grounds," Leia began.

Derlin reacted, opening his mouth to protest. Leia held up her hand, stopping him. "I'm not," she assured him, "because we need you... but we need you rested and focussed. In less than fifteen hours the Alliance will mount a diversionary attack against the Executor and Malhördhem, while the main business of getting Luke and Hobbie to safety takes place on the ground here. However… there are…" She trailed off, choosing her words carefully, finally finishing, "anomalies… to factor in and we need your insight for that."

Derlin looked at her for a long moment. Then he turned, looking at Wedge Antilles. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Leia, finding a sardonic smile. "I could probably use a fresher…" he admitted.

Leia wrinkled her nose, pulling a face as she nodded, confirming, "I was too polite to say."

That drew a chuckle from him and she looked back over her shoulder, calling, "Sergeant?" Turning back to Derlin, she told him, "Sergeant Arisii will check your shoulder and the dialysis unit. Then you can freshen up and get something to eat. I'll brief you in an hour."

He nodded, acknowledging, "Yes, Ma'am." As she turned away, he asked, "Ma'am?"

Leia stopped, looking back at him.

"How did you get Antilles out?"

Leia gave him a smile, avoiding the question. "Freshen up, eat, and I'll brief you in an hour."

oo0oo

Toryn Farr ran a critical eye over the false wall as a droid manoeuvred some seating into place in front of it. Two stormtroopers had been stationed at the far end of the corridor, so Tarja Karsaar stood facing her, making it look as if the two were deep in conversation.

Finally happy with the way the wall was looking, content that no one could accidentally stumble through it with the row of seats in front of it, Toryn nodded. "I think we're done…"

She and Tarja turned, walking down the corridor towards the stormtroopers. "I think it best to move Hobbie before… my other patient," Tarja offered, softly.

"I think so, too," Toryn agreed. "Can you do that alone?"

"Of course," Tarja told her. "A medical droid moving a patient to a new room will not be questioned. And he's been officially released into my care. Do you want me to contact you when it's done?"

"No," Toryn decided, "only contact us if something goes awry. Can you be ready to move the other patient at short notice?"

"Yes," Tarja confirmed. "As I said before, he's already showing signs of improvement. And even if the hyper-atmospheric cycle isn't complete, a dialysis unit will keep the spores in check until we can get him into a chamber at one of your facilities."

"The folks back home are already on that," Toryn supplied. "And once we have the final confirmation, and the plans to get them there, we'll let you know."

They turned the corner into the main corridor. The black-cloaked figure of Darth Vader strode towards them. Toryn swore silently, fear curling through her gut. She pushed it down, turning to Tarja, telling her, "I'm here for medical supplies for Antilles."

Tarja nodded, confirming, "Of course."

Taking a deep breath, Toryn turned her attention to Vader, Colonel Marek Vyre's smug grin sweeping up from her memory. This, she realised, was an opportunity she could not pass up. And it might answer, once and for all, whether or not Vyre was acting on his own accord and trying to save his own skin. Hooking her thumbs into her belt, she resolutely pushed down the tremor of trepidation and stood, waiting for Vader to reach her.

"My Lord," she began.

He stopped, looking at her.

"My apologies but… I require clarification on a matter."

"Which is?"

Toryn glanced at Tarja Karsaar then stepped closer to Vader. Voice quiet, she began, "It concerns Colonel Vyre and… Tusken…"

Vader regarded her through the visor, considering her partial use of the authorisation code he had supplied to both Vyre and Karsaar. Vyre, it appeared, had overcome his distaste at employing the resources of bounty hunters. His initial attitude towards them, however, had obviously fostered mistrust and that could not be allowed to continue. "The Colonel is to be afforded all assistance," Vader ordered. "He is under my direct authorisation… As are you."

Toryn inclined her head, acknowledging, "Understood."

So, Vyre was acting on Vader's orders. That both simplified and complicated the situation. Now they knew where Vyre was coming from, they could work two steps ahead of him. However, Vader was delivering Skywalker into their hands, just as he had delivered the Falcon to Yavin. That was disconcerting. And with Vyre remaining a loyal, Imperial servant, they would have to manipulate the situation to protect Tarja Karsaar.

The web was getting more and more tangled.

"What of Derlin?" Vader asked.

Toryn lifted her head, looking at him, cursing silently. She had allowed herself to be distracted. In front of Vader she needed to be completely focussed or this could all end in disaster. "One of the girls from the bordella has a relationship with Sheriff Deputy Olgenssen," she told Vader. "Valendiz has taken her to the Freedom Shade. I'm heading there now to question her." She paused, then took a chance, finishing, "Colonel Vyre will attest to my methods."

"Farn has requested my presence on the Shade, Lord Vader," Tarja put in, "for the prisoner, Antilles…"

"He's worth more to me alive and he was injured during Vyre's questioning." She pushed away memories of Wedge crumpling into the stormtroopers' grip, his face and chest covered in blood.

"Skywalker is stable, my Lord," Tarja added. "His condition is improving. I have time to examine Antilles."

Vader looked at her. If Vyre was planning to use the bounty hunters to take Luke off-planet, it would be advantageous for the medical specialist to be familiar with their ship. "Very well," he dismissed, moving away from them down the corridor.